Mick's Cop Out

Mick is chicken shit. The night he burned down my trailer, he ran home to his wife and pretended that he barely knew me. After drinking my beer and whisky, not to mention having sex with me. For six months.

The fire marshall came to our trailer park the next day. His name was Dave Dungerall. He was a real cutie. Handsome, decent looking, looks you straight in the eye, hot-to-trot like. He was all worried about other trailers catching on fire too. Well none of them had Mick inside getting drunk and putting fire to it. He also said they need to do an investigation for insurance purposes. What insurance? My trailer wasn't insured. I'm not expecting money from anyone. I told this Dave guy Mick was inside the trailer when it caught on fire. So Dave went to talk to Mick to find out what happened.

Mick told Dave he was never inside the trailer. He told Dave he was walking through the park because he was on a job. He has a truck with a giant vacuum that he drives around to trailer parks sucking out shit and piss from toilet vaults when they get too full. I don't know what he does with the shit after. He told Dave he was vacuuming the toilets in our park. He walked by my trailer and said hello. That was all he did. Shit. Mick's chicken shit and a liar.

Then he said he saw my boy Jesse stagger into the trailer like he was drunk. Jesse wasn't even home that night. Okay, I don't really know where Jesse was. He said he was hanging out with friends and wouldn't be home till morning. That's why I told Mick to come over. Jesus, I never knew all this time Mick is chicken shit and a liar. I thought he was just married.

When Dave came back from Mick's, everyone in the park said, yeah, Mick was there around supper time sucking out the shit. He was. But he stayed after. With me. And drank all my beer. And burned up my trailer.

Dave came to see Jesse. The kid is only 16. He's a good kid, not violent or careless or anything. But he's a dumb teenager, giving you lip all the time. Anyway, he wasn't even home when it happened.

When Dave asked Jesse where he was the night of the fire, Jesse said,

"No where." That stupid kid.

"Were you home?"

"No."

"Were you drinking?"

"Maybe."

"Who were you with?"

"No one."

"You were with your friends," I jumped in. "Tell him who you were with."

"None of your business, mom."

"Jesse, where were you last night? Tell us who you were with." I said.

"Get off my back. None of your business, okay?"

"Jesse," said Dave, "Mick said you were inside the trailer and it was you who burned it down."

"What?" said Jesse, "Why'd Mick say that?"

"He said he saw you going into the trailer drunk."

"I wasn't here. Even my mom says so."

"So where were you? Do you have witnesses who can vouch for where you were instead? Because we have a witness who says you were in the trailer."

"I wasn't here. None of your goddam business where I was."

"Watch your language, young man."

So we went on like that. Dave and me kept asking where he was, who he was with, Jesse kept say, no where, no one, none of your business. Finally, Dave said,

"Well, Jesse, I have to confer with the police. I'd stay put if I were you."

The next day, the police came, badgered Jesse some more, and ignored me completely. I screamed at them to leave Jesse alone. They said he's no longer a minor so I can't talk for him no more. I heard them mention Ogden and Rod Smith. Ogden? The Ogden who lives in town and got in trouble for nabbing some kid in the street? They weren't sure if he was trying to sell the kid drugs or he was molesting him. But the kid wasn't hurt and Ogden wasn't put in jail. Jesse doesn't do that kind of stuff. I'm sure Jesse doesn't even know him. Don't know who Rod Smith is. I don't know why Jesse wouldn't just tell everyone where he was. That'd clear things up. He's not the kind of kid up to no good. And why's Mick blaming Jesse, for christ sake? He knew Jesse wasn't home. Damn that Mick.

The cops finally left because Jesse wouldn't talk. Said he had nothing to say. The cops said they'd be back, in a mean way, just to make us feel threatened.

Mick didn't come around the next few days. Not to make sure I was okay or anything. Not to help me out now that I got nothing. But the neighbours at least gave me and Jesse stuff from their trailers. Some of them even have homes in houses they go to during the week. On the weekend, these folks brought stuff from their houses to give me. Real nice of them, to be so thoughtful.

Out of this mess, I got a tent from the Miller couple. I wish it was in better condition though, like newer. And I don't like the colour too much. But it's better than nothing. Travis and Daisy gave us their old sleeping bags. Sam and Jack and their mom gave us some old blankets and some pots and pans. Some people I never knew lived in the park gave us food. I got some clothes too, even though they're not really my style. God, it's so nice of everyone to help us. They should, right? Cause my home burned down.

After we settled in the tent, Jesse and I went into town to get buy stuff we didn't get from the neighbours, like clothes for Jesse. Old Mr. MIller gave us a ride and promised to bring us back too. Nice man. He offered me some money too. But I said no. I didn't need it. I still have money coming into the bank on account of Mitch being in Iraq.

"Ah, you're just having a bad streak, Mindy." said Mr. Miller. "Your husband is away and your trailer burned down. But you're a good mother. Honest too." Mr. Miller is a kind man.

Wittle Lake is not a big place. The town sign says the populations is 2,500. Most of us probably live in the park. It feels like that anyway. You can get everything you need to live in the park from Wittle Lake's downtown. There is a church, a liquor store, a supermarket, a convenience store, a fire station, a police station, a post office, a hardware store, two banks, two clothes stores, several gifts and odds and sods shops, a few trailer and tent stores, more than a few car repairs and like 20 camping and sporting goods stores. That's whack of stores for our little town. But we get a lot of tourists year round. Some of them even come into the park to stay for a week or two. Some come every summer. Some are there only on weekends. But a lot of us live there all year long. The park is like our own little town within a town.

It's nice in the downtown though. Everyone acts friendly. You run into a lot of people you know from the park. Some people you don't know, but you see them around. Even though you never talk to them in the park, you still say hi to them in town.

Mr. Miller dropped me off in front of the hardware store. I bought some plates and cutlery. Jesse was already bored. Then he said,

"Hey, there's Mick."

Sure enough, across the street, there was Mick, standing beside his car and smoking. We ran across the street to him.

"Hey, Mick. What's the big idea?" I said to him.

"Whoa, don't talk to me. Don't talk so loud either. Just shush, will ya." he said.

"Mick, why'd you go blaming me for the fire?" said Jesse.

"Ah c'mon you punk. I got my job and my wife to think about," he said in a low voice.

"Well, what about us?" I said.

"What about you? You got your husband."

"You lied," said Jesse, "and got me in trouble."

Shannon, the park's queen monger of gossip, and some of her monger-in-waiting friends passed by at that moment.

"Hey, Mindy, sorry to hear about your trailer," she sang. "Hi Mick, how's it going?"

Mick straightened up, sticking out his gut. "Hi Shannon," he said, then turning to us, he said in a loud officious voice,

"Well, wasn't that you I saw? I told them what I thought I saw. It looked like you. If that wasn't you, you tell them that."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" shouted Jesse.

"Don't get me involved. I was only passing by your trailer. If that wasn't you I saw going in the trailer, you tell 'em that then."

The bastard! He was lying to my face, right there in the street, in broad daylight. I have to ditch him.

"For god sake, Mick. You were inside, drunk. You burned my trailer and I saved you," I said.

"No, 'mam, I don't go inside people's private properties," Mick said in an indignant tone.

"Fuck you. You don't know what shit you brought on us by burning up my trailer. We're homeless now," I said.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Mindy, I really am. But I can't help you." Then he got into his car and drove away fast, almost running over Jesse's toe. Damn him. Shannon and her friends tittered away.

I was crushed. How could a man lie like that? Did the last six months mean nothing to him. We were just good time drink and fuck buddies? He's a no good, spineless, fat-gut liar. Don't know what I ever saw in him. It's just me and Jesse now. And Mitch. Poor Mitch.

The Fire

Like I said in the introduction, I live in a tent now. It was easier living in the trailer. But the trailer got burned up.

My stupid boyfriend let his lit cigarette drop on the floor 'cause he fell asleep drunk. The whisky he got into was brand new, a 40 ouncer. He was chasing his 19 beers with it. Drank it straight out of the bottle. He crashed so the whisky just went chug-a-lug-a-chug out the bottle onto the floor. Son of a bitch. Then his cigarette dropped, still lit. You'd think the whisky would put the cig out. Nooo way. The cig landed on the empty plastic bag that I bought the cheesies in. The plastic started burning, the whisky got on the plastic and inflamed the fire.

Next thing you know, Mick was hollering, "Hey, open the window. It's hot." He never even opened his eyes to look what was happening.

I was having a smoke outside at the time. I heard him yelling, so I opened the trailer door to go inside. Wouldn't you know it - whoof - the damn door curtain caught on fire. It's supposed to be inflammable polyester, the curtain. What I saw was...the rug below Mick was burning, the floor was burning and now the door was burning.

I called, "Mick, Mick, what'd you do? Get up. Don't just sit there. Get out!" I didn't want to traipse across the fire to get him. I wanted to shake him. But all I could do was shout at him to get out.

He wasn't sure what I was saying at first. He was slouched way back in the arm chair with his eyes closed and he just kept mumbling, "Open the window, open the damn window."

I took my shoe off and threw it at his head. God, I was a good hit. He went, "Ouch, what the fuck was that?"

"Get up and get out, you idiot. The trailer's on fire!" I screamed.

He opened his eyes and went, "Huh? What the fuck?" And you never seen anyone jump up so fast. He leaped out of his chair, ran through the fire, pushed me aside, and jumped outside. Damn him. I had one shoe on and my hair almost got scorched by the fire. But I was quick too. I ran out after him.

You have to understand, all this happened real fast. In split seconds. That's why we didn't die in the fire. But you know what the bastard did soon as he got out? He didn't try to put the fire out, or get help. He took a piss. He ran over to the tree, pulled out his dick and took the longest piss you ever saw in your life.

So I shouted, "Help, help, our trailer is on fire. Help."

And the bastard hissed at me, "Shut up, woman. I'm taking a piss. Don't get everyone 'round to watch." Oooh, that made me so mad.

I'm not sure what happened next, but people gathered around. They stood watching, saying things like, "What do we do? Someone should put the fire out. Anyone call the fire department?"

By this time, Mick was done his business. So he said, "Anyone got a cell phone?" Someone gave him one. I thought, Good, at least he's taking command instead of just standing around like these other morons. But nooo. He didn't call the fire department. I heard him say,

"Hey honey, it's Mick. Listen, I'm just finishing up. Hear all the fuss happening here? Yeah, it was busy, but I'm coming home now." The bastard! He called his wife.

So everyone just stood there and watched my trailer burn.

After a while, a fire truck did show up. I guess someone had the good sense to call for help afterall. But it was too late. My trailer was done for. It was beyond repair. Everything inside got burned. My home went up in smoke because my stupid boyfriend got drunk. What'll I tell my husband? He's in Iraq, fighting the war. He don't know about Mick. And now the trailer.

I was so depressed and desperate. I got nothing left. Then a fireman walked by, inspecting the mess. "Trailer trash," I heard him say. Was he calling me trailer trash? Was he talking to me? I don't know any more. I am just so in despair. Oh dear lord. Please, drop kick me Jesus, through the goalposts of life. Cause I sure don't know the way.

What's This All About?

This blog has nothing to do with Bobbie Bare's song. I didn't even know Bobbie sang this song till I googled our blog title. Was I surprised to see someone else had already thought of the title, and wrote a song about it to boot. I had such faith in The Man to come up original ideas. So if you want to hear the song instead, go here.

And now, for our blog.

Drop Kick Me Jesus Through The Goalposts of Life is a mock blog, or blog fiction. It's like Fanfic, but we're creating the fic first.

The idea was inspired by The Man. His Australian cousin gave him a surfing T-shirt that said Drop In On Me Jesus. He wore that wherever he went. Later that same year, a British Columbian cousin sent him an e-mail with the return address grannywithatambourineforjesus@isp.com. He told people about that too, wearing his Drop In On Me Jesus T-shirt, wherever he went.

One day, when he was feeling particularly witty and daring, he told some friends about his big idea. The idea was, he would sell T-shirts with the phrase Drop Kick Me Jesus Through The Goalposts Of Life. Very clever.

But you know, The Man is full of ideas, just full of it. He talked and talked. The Woman heard his idea and The Cousin heard his idea. So they decided to do something about it.

This is the blog The Woman and The Cousin created to tell a story. When the story is told, they will sell T-shirts and mugs that say Drop Kick Me Jesus Through The Goalposts Of Life. And because they are nice people, they invited The Man to tell some of the story too.

The Fire is the our first mock post.